


Genius of Love

by dirtygsanchez



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Aftercare, Blood, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Murder, Oral Sex, Ownership, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, rickcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtygsanchez/pseuds/dirtygsanchez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two writers each writing different character perspectives - </p><p>Rick C-137 suspects foul play and follows his lover Evil Rick to a bar to check up on him. He finds more than he bargained for and is punished for his jealousy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genius of Love

C-137, sober for once, sat in his ship and followed the red dot moving across the screen with his gaze. He frowned, looked through the windshield and altered his course ever so slightly. These days he followed Evil Rick around as a matter of course when he was doing something suspicious and right now was a prime example. That the little twerp hadn’t noticed his tracker yet was suspicious in itself, although of course he could choose to interpret it as a compliment to himself…

Once the erratic movements of the red dot brought it near its destination, Rick felt an ever so slight drop in his gut from disappointment and surprise. There was nothing out here of interest he knew of other than a rather charmingly horrible dive bar that he, if he’d been a pathetic moron, might have called one of  _their_  spots. There’d been a few memorable fights in there, and he’d memorised most of the scribbles on the door to the one functioning stall since Evil Rick had made it a habit to push his head against it while fucking him.

Right. Well, of course, there was no possible way that asshole was up to anything good. Rick patted his coat absentmindedly to check that both his gun and his spare bottles sat snug and safe against his body then brought the ship within view of the little asteroid and took it down to land.

\----------------------------------

Evil Rick hadn’t left his base in days and had found himself feeling desperate to escape the restrictive confines of his lab. Predictably he had ended up at his favorite haunt; one of the most smoke-choked sweat-stained shit-hole bars on his side of the galaxy. 

It had started off as nothing more than a couple of quiet whiskeys. However, after some brief conflict with another Rick he had found himself in a drinking competition with a Jellybean and the whole thing had got inexplicably messy. 

An hour or so later he had found himself in a secluded black leather bar booth with Han Solo Rick laid out across him whilst he licked tequila and salt off of his stomach. As Han Rick slipped from his lap down to his knees, Evil Rick felt him tugging demandingly at his belt buckle. He tussled the guy’s hair as a sign of approval and leaned his head back against the booth, closing his eyes as he felt Han Solo Rick scramble to take down his trousers. 

\------------------------

The bar man nodded to Rick in ricognition as soon as he walked up to the sticky counter and got a brown bottle out for him from the lowest shelf. Rick paid without making conversation, took the bottle but slid it into his pocket instead of opening it. If he wasn’t going to share it with someone or break it over that same someone’s head, he might as well save it for later… now where was that jerk off hiding?

This late in the night the place was as close to busy as it ever got, but Ricks stood out, what with the hair, the height and usually being surrounded by trouble. And sure enough, it only took him half a lap around the room to find what he was looking for - Evil Rick, slumped back in his seat, with a smug look of pleasure on his face he’d come to know and loathe.

Right.  _Right._  And who was that on the floor?

Rick thought he saw a flash of blue in the shadows underneath the table, and if his mind hadn’t been near blank with anger, it was now. Instead of thinking, he strode over before either of the two had a chance to react, kicked Evil Rick hard on the shin, reached under the table, grabbed a fistful of greasy hair and yanked, rough, out and up. The Rick - and of course it’d be a fucking Rick - yelped in pain and complained as he was dragged from his hiding place. _“Hey, man, what the fuck?!”_ He looked rough, his eyes crossed and his chin glittered with spit and fuck knew what else.

C-137 looked him up and down and then promptly caught him across the head with an elbow swipe. The dishevelled Rick went over with the grace of a ballet dancer. That took care of one of them.

\--------------------

Evil Rick was slumped in a leather booth with his head slung back and his legs obscenely widely spread. His eyes were firmly closed in concentration as he relished the wet-hot satisfaction of Han Rick’s frothing mouth dribbling all over his unspent erection. It certainly wasn’t the most well executed dick suck he’d ever received but this Rick’s unashamed thirst for him and gobbling hunger at least partially made up for that.

He could hear someone approaching and suspected it was an offer to replenish his drink. His eyes remained closed, lost in his own pleasure, his words now only a murmur.

_“I…I’ll have a Bourbon on the rocks, nothing for…for him, he’s got his mouth full.”_

 

Quite unexpectedly he felt the stinging sharp pain of a forceful kick to his lower leg. 

 _“Ow..fuck!”_  he shouted with a jolt, his eyes angrily flickering open just as the wet warmth which had encased his aroused member suddenly, lamentingly disappeared.

He watched in shock as C-137 hauled his temporary playmate out from under the table and proceeded to knock him the fuck out. Jesus, he’d seen  _that_ look before, sometimes he’d worked for hours to get  _that_  look; holding Rick on the edge of orgasm, denying him, carving up his skin, whispering sweet violent nothings. Now that he was receiving this same look in these entirely different circumstances, he felt certain that he didn’t want it; Jesus he looked fucking unhinged.

He opened his mouth to speak and then paused, deciding he should at least slide his trousers back up before continuing.  Fastening his belt buckle he looked back up towards Rick and immediately and sickeningly felt smothered by the furious cold rage which seemed to be radiating from him. He cleared his throat in an attempt to cool his voice.

_“C-C137, uh…care to join me for a drink?”_

\-------------------------

With two strides, Rick stepped over the body on the floor and leaned over Evil Rick, with one foot between his legs, dangerously close, and pulled his head back by the hair _. “What the fuck,”_ Rick hissed and nodded to indicate the pathetic pile by his other foot, _“is this?”_

Evil Rick took a breath, his eyes raised up to the ceiling and Rick growled a warning. _“And you think carefully before - before you try to be smart, asshole.”_

What the fuck was going on here? After everything he’d done for him, after everything they’d said, this complete and utter prick had just gone out, without even trying him first, and found a second rate, foul-smelling replacement for him. Rick had come to expect basically any amount of crap from basically anyone, but that this would happen hadn’t even entered his head.

\-------------------------------

The shock Evil Rick had experienced from Rick’s abrupt entrance and unexpected entanglement in his carnal engagement was beginning to dissipate, allowing him to breathe just a little deeper and relax just a little bit more.

One thing was crystal fucking clear; he’d been followed here, stalked in fact; it was simply unacceptable.

He wrapped his hand around Rick’s fist that was still balled in his hair and forcibly removed it, pulling out several blue tufts in the process. He coolly smoothed each strand back into place and shrugged his shoulders apathetically; unable to stop himself from saying the last thing C-137 would actually want to hear.

_“Wh-what do you want me to say C-137, the…the guy was thirsty, so I gave him a drink.”_

\---------------------------

This was not at all the reaction he’d expected - he’d expected lies, excuses, shame, maybe even some sort of half-hearted apology. The confusion and hurt was already winning over the anger, and Rick leaned out, exasperated. What the hell was going on here?! Had he imagined that night, that confession? How in the fuck could he act so… suave?!

_“Is - is this - are you trying to be cool now? Is this your pathetic attempt to backtrack?”_

Where was his knife? He could really do with one right about now - it might help him to cut the bullshit a little shorter. And wipe that smug look off Evil Rick’s face. Was he  _trying_  to make him look stupid? Trick him into acting like he cared, and then reveal the hidden camera and rub it in Rick’s face that no one would stay interested this long?

\--------------------------------------

The general hum and din of the bar began to recede as a direct result of the number of its patrons now expressing a perverse interest in the scene taking place between the two Ricks. Evil Rick shifted uncomfortably in his seat, it felt like his psycho girlfriend had turned up and everybody was waiting for her to attack him with her high heel. Pretty fucking rich for a guy who would disappear for weeks on end without as much as a text; he had half a mind to put him in his place, but in a rare act of patience, he forced his restraint.

 _“Jesus Christ Rick, sit down, y-you’re making a fucking scene.”_  He hissed through gritted teeth. But still C-137 stood there with his hands on his hips looking furious and dangerously sober. 

Evil Rick leaned forward and lit a cigarette. 

 _“Don’t worry,_  he grinned, blowing out a thick plume of smoke,  _you’re still Daddy’s favourite.”_

\----------------------------------

Rick narrowed his eyes, then, without having to look around, became horribly aware that Evil Rick was very, very right. His ears grew hot and he slid into the seat opposite so that they were both more or less shielded from the onlookers.

He pulled the bottle out of his coat, opened it and took a large drink, then left it on the table without offering Evil Rick any.

Daddy’s favourite. For fuck’s sake, did he think that’d work on him? Make him squirm?

Rick folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, glaring daggers at his companion, sulking like a child.

 _“Well?”_ He demanded. The body on the floor was starting to groan and complain, so he reached over awkwardly to give it a nice, hard kick. The Rick on the floor took the hint and went silent. “ _What happened to the -urp-… all the ‘hold me, Rick, my life’s a void without you’ crap?”_

\------------------------------

 Jesus Christ, so he really wanted to do  _this_ , right here, right now?  _Fuck_. Evil Rick leaned his head towards Rick so could speak in hushed tones.  

 _“I have n-never uttered those words in my life C-137.”_  He glowered at the other as his annoyance continued to build.  _“One night Rick, one fu-fucking night I show a semblance of vulnerability and what, you-you-you think it gives you some sort of c-c-claim?”_

He gestured towards the partially comatose Rick on the floor with his cigarette. _“Th-that piece of shit means nothing, y-you mean more than nothing and that should be enough.”_

He placed a hand firmly on his companion’s shoulder; the weight of it signalling a clear indication of intimation and not comfort, emphasized by the indignant anger blazing in his eyes. 

_“I’m far more interested in knowing how you tracked me down here Rick a-and you’re going to tell me….now.”_

\-----------------------

Rick shrugged and pulled away. That was really all he wanted to hear, anyway.  Oh, and why he hadn’t been the first choice.

_“It’s-it’s not a secret - I planted a bug on your p-urgh-portal gun. You shouldn’t be so fuck-fucking sloppy if you don’t want to be spied on…”_

Since when was invasion of privacy such a fucking concern anyway? Oh, so it was fine when Evil Rick decided to bother, but when he did it it was somehow unforgivable? Rick pulled away from the bony hold on his shoulder and leaned back in his seat, still sulking, and decided that this had already gone bad enough for him to need another drink. He lifted the bottle to his lips again and, keeping his eyes on Evil Rick’s, drank about a quarter of its contents.

\-----------------------

Evil Rick was absolutely furious, after everything he had been through with the Council; being forced to deal with them continually prying into his business and their constant attempts at covert surveillance and C-137 thought it was okay to hack his portal gun just because he was fucking jealous?

He took a deep breath before he responded, aware that he wanted to retain a low profile. His voice was low and gruff.

_“If y-you ever plant a surveillance device on me or around ah-again Rick, I will kill you, is that clear Motherfucker?”_

\-------------------------------

Oh, shit. Rick caught himself getting goosebumps from that look, and his heart sped up with fear and anticipation. There was no doubt that Evil Rick was dead serious about this, and for a moment, he almost,  _almost_  felt guilty.

But - wait, fuck that. Evil Rick was the fucking embodiment of a violation - he was the personification of two slick, unwanted fingers up the rectum of the world. Rick glared back and leaned in until the two of them were uncomfortably close.

_“Yeah? What about all - all the times you’ve fucking kidnapped me, then? Kept me blindfolded, nearly crapping my pants or straight up killing you by accident, just cuz you thought it’d be fun - a fun way to waste a weekend? And-and when you… you threatened my Morty and nearly shot my daughter? Don’t - just get off the fucking high horse, you piece of shit fucking idiot!”_

\------------------------

He held his position, his eyes glittering in the dark as they continued to stare one another down, so dangerously close their noses were almost touching, their breath now hot and clamorous against each other’s face. 

 _“D-d-don’t fucking kid yourself old man,_ He sneered dispassionately. _You-you wanted my dick in you because of that sweet fucked-up list of travesties, not in spite of it.”_

He jabbed a pointed finger against Rick’s collar bone.  _“You are fucking mine and I will do with you as I please and you will acquiesce to my will because that is who you fucking are. Do I have to beat your fucking ass right here and now to remind you of that?”_

\-------------------------------

Hah! As if he’d dare. If he even lay a finger on him, Rick was out of here and never looking back. God, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually frothing at the mouth with pure anger - he was sick to death of how one-sided this all was. As if he wasn’t worth any respect, as if they weren’t equal, as if… as if he wasn’t a Rick.

 _“I’m not yours, and I’m - and I’m not your fucking dog, you mouth breathing piece of shit floater.”_ Rick slapped the offending finger away much harder than he’d intended, but was too incensed to care. _“Don’t - don’t fucking touch me, I’m out.”_ He leaned out, grabbed the bottle, pulled out his portal gun and stood up, ready to leave. Fuck the ship, he could come back for it literally any other time.

\-----------------------------------

Upon hearing Rick’s treacherous insults Evil Rick found himself surpassing hot fury and going straight to cool rage. There would be contrition, no debate, no lover’s tiff and certainly no compromise, not tonight. 

As C-137 turned to leave, Evil Rick quietly stood up behind him and slipped the bottle from his loose sweaty grip. Swiftly and with considerable force he brought it down upon Rick’s head, shielding his eyes as the shattered slivers of glass fractured across the exposed area of Rick’s scalp, leaving an intricate pattern of bloody scratches and embedded shards, sharp as tiny cat’s teeth. 

He could see Rick wavering, swaying precariously from side to side in response to the blunt impact and acute pain of the blow. Carefully he reached around and grabbed him in a tight head lock, wrapping his arm firming around Rick’s throat. When he was satisfied that the enforced restriction had rendered Rick sufficiently pliable, he dragged him into the restroom. 

Throughout the entire escapade his expression remained constant; cold, determined and completely unforgiving. 

\--------------------------------

Rick tried his best to remain conscious and fight back and his poor, abused head was in absolute agony. Blood was gushing down into his ears and eyes and he was panicking as Evil Rick stole one sense from him after the other. The horrible old bastard had really done it now - he was never going to give him another chance after this. Oh, he might play along if he could swallow back his hatred, just to get out of here in one piece, but then he’d fucking nuke Evil Rick’s lair and salt the scarred earth surrounding it.

 _“Piece of shit, let me go!”_ came his undignified wheeze from Evil Rick’s armpit. Where was he taking him? The bathroom stalls?! Rick kicked out the best he could, or thought he did - in reality, he was too stunned to do much more than feebly twitch his limbs. _“You hit me again and you’re dead!”_

\-----------------------------------

As they crashed into the bathroom stall, Evil Rick clasped his hand hard around the back of Rick’s neck to both manoeuvre and steady him.

 _“Jesus, the state of you, look what **you made me do**.” _ he snarled, now unable to make out the expression on Rick’s face due to all the blood thickly trickling down his face.

He swiped at Rick’s ankles with a quick kick, forcing him down onto his knees, taking care to bear some of Rick’s weight at the same time, so the impact was not too great. He had Rick hovering over the toilet bowl, in exactly the position required had Rick intended to vomit in it.

_“Before you ask Rick, yes, th-that is exactly what I am going to do.”_

Forcing his knee against Rick’s spine he pushed hard on the back of his head until it was mostly inside the rancid bowl. With his other hand he flushed, holding Rick steady as the feculent toilet water drenched his face, simultaneously causing him to audibly retch and choke.

He held him down long enough to clean off the majority of the blood and then just a little longer.

Releasing his hold, he brushed some shards of glass off of Rick’s head and tightly entwined his bony fingers in his hair to wrench him back up to his feet. Pulling him out of the stall, with his free hand he grabbed some paper towels and shoved them into Rick’s shaking hands.

 _“Dry yourself off for fuck’s sake_.” He ordered dispassionately.

\-------------------------------

Things had been bad before, but now Rick was trembling all over, not just with humiliation and the sickness that made his stomach lurch but with emotional pain as well as the physical. There’s been so many last straws, if he had a penny for each of them he wouldn’t know how rich he was because he’d lost count.

He wished from the bottom of his gallbladder that they’d never met. And at the same time, he was desperate to cave in and bend, just so he could this short before it truly started - winning now would cost him nearly as much as losing would. Rick knew where this would go - not the details, but he got the gist. He didn’t want to be there again.

And he was exhausted. He could be a dick, too, but he’d never have the energy for it like Evil Rick did. Perhaps it was better to roll over, let him win, then stab the bastard in the back as soon as he had the chance.

He patted himself dry the best he could and looked into Evil Rick’s eyes, let the hurt and the hatred and the disgust shine through them.

 _“Enough, alright? You’ve-you’ve made your point, I won’t ever come looking for you again.”_ Rick twisted his head and spat on the floor. What a fucking understatement. There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t give right now to never have to see this piece of shit again. _“You win.”_

\--------------------------------------

 _That_  look,  _that_  fucking look in Rick’s eyes, like he’d just killed his Morty and taken a shit in him, what the hell?

Evil Rick rolled his eyes dramatically.  _“As per fucking usual R-Rick, you’ve missed the point entirely.”_

He studied the other; C-137 looked exhausted and deliciously weak; if there was a time to drill his point home it was definitely now. He wrapped his thin fingers around the old man’s throat and with the domineering weight of his only slightly larger frame, he pushed him back against the wall, allowing Rick’s head to collide with a bump, smearing the grimy tiles with the slick blood from his still wet head wound.

 _“This, this whole fucking thing is your fault, you-you come and you-you go as you fucking please and you expect me to be satisfied with that? It-it’s not good enough and in…in your absence Motherfucker I will do what I please and fuck”…_ He bucked his hips _….”whatever I want, do you understand?”_

He shifted his hands, tightening his stranglehold.

 _“You’re the one that always drags your sorry ass back to me, because you’re a sick fuck and you need this, you need it just like this…_ He thumped Rick’s head against the wall to illustrate the point. _… and I am fucking sick to death of y-you pretending that it-it-it’s otherwise.”_

\-----------------------------------

God. Rick shut his eyes and felt the heat of shame and self-hatred rise from his twisting gut. Even after everything life had thrown at him, he still couldn’t play the victim with any conviction, because just like always, it was his own fucking fault he got bruised.

   
It’d be nice right now if his brain would throw him a bone, remind him of exactly he was right and Evil Rick was wrong, but recollection completely failed to flash a fin. He was sulking like a fucking child, like a fucking  _Jerry,_ and that thought alone could mean one of two things - he tried to off himself as soon as he got the opportunity, or he humiliated himself further, this time without needing anyone there to hold his hand through it and show him how.  
Alright so there were mitigating circumstances - he did have cause to be upset at being side-lined, especially after That Night, and Evil Rick had gone too far more often than not. But was he really such a fucking chicken that he couldn’t face what he’d let himself become? Yeah, apparently he was.  Well, never say die. Ha ha. 

  
Rick opened his eyes again and let himself become pliable under Evil Rick’s hands. This wouldn’t be pretty, but it didn’t matter. As horrible as the snarling hell spawn choking him was, the person reflected back in those pitch black eyes was worse. It was high time to throw in the towel _“You’re right.”_

  
He sounded broken, because nothing else would do, but no longer squirming around in his own self-pity.  _“Wh-what do you want me to do?”_

\----------------------------------

A sickly self-assured smile of satisfaction spread across Evil Rick’s thin lips as he felt Rick soften under his hold and heard the utterance of his submissively phrased question. The expression on Rick’s face was definitely one of self-repulsion; the type normally derived from unwanted and unexpected epiphany.

He pressed his body hard against the other, leaving not a breath of air between them. With one hand still wrapped around Rick’s throat, admittedly more delicately now, he reached the other down to dominantly cup Rick’s balls. Slowly he kissed a trail of biting wet kisses up Rick’s neck; fuck he tasted awful, he reminded himself never to kiss someone after he’d flushed their fucking head down a toilet. 

He moved his lips to Rick’s ear.  _You are mine, do you fucking understand.”_  He hissed in his ear.  _“and a-as much as you hate that fact C-137 and as much as you may hate me, you know it’s true, you feel that need burning in your fucking guts.”_

He looked Rick directly in the eyes, staring him down as he slid his hand around to Rick’s rear to give it a good squeeze of ownership.

_“No one gives you what I do, nobody can and I g-give it so fuck-fucking freely, I should make you beg for it like the disgusting, abuse thirsty lap dog you really are.”_

\-----------------------------

Rick couldn’t help it - he laughed. His life was just such a huge fucking joke there was no other way to react. Well, obviously there was crying. Crying might happen once he wasn’t quite so drunk. Of course, his horrible body, which deserved a whipping just for being such a fucking sell out, went along with all of this like it always did. He really had been trained like a dog: the minute Evil Rick got rough with him, he grew hard…

The pain he’d dreaded a moment ago, before Evil Rick had let the air out of his anger, he longed for it now.

Oh, he could give it to himself like usual of course, most often while telling himself it was an accident, but it wasn’t the same if he really could end it - when it was out of his hands, that was when the intrusive thoughts really got quiet. Rick had fought against this, against submitting, every time they’d fought, and told himself the reason it felt so good when Evil Rick was finally happy enough with him to fuck him was that, well… fucking was better than a beating, right? He might still believe that if it wasn’t for the pesky detail that Evil Rick only ever fucked him after he’d broken him. What a farce.

Submitting from the start, like he fucking  _always wanted to do_  (usually right before he decided to push Evil Rick to the point of snapping, oh, hindsight is 20-20…) how much better wouldn’t it be? He’d still get a beating, but at least he wouldn’t have to try quite so hard to pretend he didn’t crave it.

 _“Yeah, yeah you should,”_ Rick whispered. _“Make me beg.”_

\------------------------------

Evil Rick blinked, unable to hide the look of surprise Rick’s reaction had firmly planted on his face. He studied the other intently with a suspicious glare; was that a challenge or a request, or was the crafty old bastard planning to stab him the guts the minute his back was turned?  

He’d carefully chosen his words to goad Rick, to spur him into retaliation, perhaps he’d been a little too honest and over shot. Yes, this thing between them was torturous, painfully so, but that was entirely the point. Breaking Rick down, crushing his resistance, fighting him off, fighting himself onto him, into him, that was the best part. In the end it was what they both wanted, they just had a fucked up way of getting there.

As he felt Rick grow stiff under his firm grasp he raised an eyebrow, it was a request, definitely a request. Without warning he punched Rick in the gut then placed a heavy hand on his shoulder carefully guiding his crumpled form down into his knees. Rick was moaning, staring at the floor desperately gripping his stomach.

 _“Fucking look at me you piece of s-shit!”_  He snarled.  _“Do you-you know how much of my fucking time you’ve w-wasted tonight?”_

He gripped Rick’s face between thumb and forefinger and squashed his mouth into a perfect _‘O’_ forcing him to look up and hold his cruel glare as his cheeks began to faintly bruise. It normally took hours to get Rick to this point and usually he’d be exhausted himself, just from the sheer effort it required. If the bastard wanted to suffer he’d give him what he wanted and more.

With his other hand he slipped a screwdriver from his lab coat pocket and without ceremony drove it forcefully into the fleshy part of Rick’s shoulder, then gave it a good twist.

_“You stink like shit old man, you better show me what you’re fucking worth.”_

\------------------------------------

The moment the first blow landed, the repetitive thoughts stopped. Pain blossomed inside of him and needed all space available to grow. He would have been happy to stay there, on his knees and panicking while the wind was still knocked out of him, but Evil Rick would never be satisfied with just that.

When he could finally draw breath again and blood was gushing from his shoulder he panted and screamed without grace and squirmed and shook in absolute agony. All his convictions shrank under this onslaught and he wanted to fight back, run, hide, do anything to get away with this. But his whole body was in shock.

Rick nearly slumped to the filthy floor and his vision left him. A dull, dark, rust red shrouded his surroundings, his cracked voice softened in a pathetic whine.

He raised both trembling hands and grabbed hold of Evil Rick’s coat - it was the only thing keeping him upright.

_“Enough, fuck… just-just give me a break, just for a minute.”_

Fuck. If Evil Rick would just let him fix this in any other way… Rick’s impulses fought inside him: he wanted to strangle him, he wanted to strip for him and let him take whatever he wanted. He wanted back in his good graces, and he had to bite his tongue hard not to let slip just how far he’d go.  _I want to be yours, I want to be your favourite._ Just allowing himself to shroud that thought in words made his skin crawl and he’d die before he ever spoke them aloud.

\-------------------------

He allowed Rick to grasp desperately onto the lapels of his lab coat to steady himself and gave him just what he had asked for; a minute. Smoothing his hand through Rick’s hair he pulled at his eyelid, checking on the state of his pupils; faint shock, nothing more, nothing serious. Rick was still visibly shaking and panting at a fevered pace. Evil Rick breathed deeply, audibly deep; an instruction for Rick to match the pace and calm himself and once he had, the minute was up.

His next steps were critical, there was, after all, a punishment to be measured out, and through it a lesson Rick needed to learn and commit to memory; he would not tolerate another incident like this.

He gripped Rick by the ear and pulled his face close as if scorning an impudent child.  _“My compassion for you is a-an inconvenience Rick, don’t try to exploit it or I will close it off to you and re-replace you.”_

He slipped his other hand down to Rick’s shoulder and teased his finger into the ragged bloody puncture wound, maintaining a consistently painful pressure.  _“You owe me an apology you sorry piece of shit.”_

Rick moved to speak, but he placed a bloody finger over his lips commanding his silence and painting them a lurid crimson.

_“Not just m-me C-137, the other Rick too, the one you knocked the fuck out.”_

He released his grasp and jabbed a pointed finger against Rick’s chest. _“I’m going bring him in here so we-we can do this properly and you, you are going to stand right fucking there and not move a fucking muscle, aren’t you pet?”_

\---------------------------

Rick kneeled frozen to the spot while Evil Rick shook his head irritably and left, and he tried, he really tried to tell himself it was because he was too exhausted and hurt to be able to stand up and move, but it just wouldn’t stick. He was afraid, deadly afraid - Evil Rick had reassured him he still meant more than nothing and for a thousand reasons, he couldn’t afford to make him go back on those words.

As long as they rang true, he’d never be worthless; there’d always be one person who needed him to stick around, if only to bleed for him and make him laugh. Rick was so exhausted, he knew - he hoped - it wouldn’t be this way tomorrow. But right now, it was his one anchor.

He leaned back against the filthy wall, assumed that that wouldn’t count as moving, and tried to force his brain to shut down while he waited. Whatever came next, he could bet his kidneys it wouldn’t be pretty, wouldn’t be the sort of pain that he’d enjoy.

When the pair finally came back, he stared down at the floor rather than met either sets of eyes, but it wasn’t submissive - it was sulking and humiliated.

Did there really have to be a witness? A witness who’d be allowed to come out of here alive to tell the world what Rick had sunk to?

He clenched his fists, wished the sickness and the exhaustion would just hurry up and claim him already. But he had to make him happy. He had to.

\----------------------------------

It didn’t take him long to find Han Solo Rick; he was sat back in a chair, drinking shots, grumbling and dabbing a damp cloth under his freshly bloodied broken nose. Evil Rick extended a long thin hand out towards him, which he immediately accepted.

 _“My friend owes you an a-apology and I would appreciate it if you could join us in the-the restroom.”_  Admittedly it was probably the most politely phrased invitation he’d made in his life, but it was imperative that the other joined them willfully.

He escorted the bruised and battered Rick into the bathroom. As they entered, he shot Rick a solid silencing glare and grinned with satisfaction as Rick cast his eyes down to the floor. 

Upon seeing the face of his recent aggressor, Han Rick moved to strike C-137, but Evil Rick halted him, placing a flat hand against his chest, indicating that such an act would be simply unacceptable.

_“Wait.”_

He bent his head and ran his fingers lovingly through C-137’s hair, his words deliberately soft but clearly edged with firm assertion.

_“C137, I-I would like you to tell this Rick exactly what p-prompted your unwarranted assault tonight and what you intend to do to make it up to him.”_

He slipped his hands to his hips, his expression plain and impatient. He wanted Rick to remember tonight, he wanted the mere memory of it to make him sick to his stomach with shame and regret, shame which would prevent him from ever assuming any kind of ownership over him again. 

\-----------------------------------

Oh fucking god. No. No, no, no, no….

Rick’s cheeks burned and he shuddered all over. But from the corner of his eye, he saw a movement - Evil Rick was pulling back his hand for a slap. He shook his head hurriedly, licked his dry lips and forced himself to look up at Han Rick. Nothing had ever been more difficult in his life.

 _“I…” God. Where would he even start. “I-I was outta line. I took a liberty.”_ That would never be enough, but Rick didn’t know how to say it in a way Evil Rick would tolerate. And… it hurt to admit it, but he was so fucking hard right now, saying this out loud might well bring him over the edge. He’d never be able to look himself in the eye again, whatever happened next _. “I’m his d-dog and-and I forgot my place.”_ Rick groaned, turned and looked up into Evil Rick’s eyes so that he wouldn’t miss a word of what he was saying about him. _“H-he can do whatever the fuck he likes.”_

God, his dick was throbbing so hard it was agonising to leave it alone. Even more painful was the fact that both of them could see it. Rick turned to Han Rick, but looked at his chest rather than his face.

_“I-I-I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you… I’ll suck your dick, I’ll let you fuck me, anything.”_

\----------------------------

 _That’s right Rick, I will do whatever the fuck I want.”_  He hissed at him, slowly retracting the hand he had been about to smack him with.

 

Fairly satisfied, he patronisingly patted C-137 on the head to emphasise his current subjugated status.  _“Good boy.”_  He praised, casting his eyes down to the shamefully visible bulge which had now blossomed between Rick’s thighs.

Having Rick on his knees like this with hotly repressed humiliating words dropping from his lips was simply delicious, but of course what would come next would be even more so.

He turned to Han Rick.  _“You heard him, he’s going to suck you off, lower your fucking trousers.”_ he snarled with indifference.

Han Rick, who at this stage looked thoroughly bemused by the strange situation he had unwittingly found himself in, decided it best to comply and began to undo his belt. After all, a blow job was a blow job.

Evil Rick leaned down and pulled at C-137’s lab coat, dragging him across the tiles to rest under Han Rick. He entwined his fingers in Rick’s sticky blood stained hair and wrenched his head to the side with such force that he was surprised it didn’t snap off in his hand. Slowly he placed his lips to Rick’s ear to whisper to him.

_“You better do a good f-fucking job because I’ll be watching, every lick, every suck, my eyes will be on you and I- I’ll know if you’re holding back old man. If you ever want me to look at you in the same way again, you had b-better give it everything you’ve got left.”_

\--------------------------------

Rick shivered, frowned, pulled away as soon as he was let go and pretended those lips against his skin hadn’t made a shiver trickle down his spine.

The scruffy looking Rick stepped in and ran his fingers through Rick’s hair, pulled at it to turn his head and examine the cuts that had caked his skull with blood. He scoffed and shook his head and it was obvious that Rick’s state disgusted him.

Rick shut his eyes and decided to do everything he could to make this quick - it’d make him look eager, and it’d get this creep away from him as soon as possible. There was no way Evil Rick would keep him around once his purpose had been fulfilled.

Han Rick’s cock hung limply right in front of Rick’s nose, and he sighed deeply and reached up to run his hands over the sensitive skin of his stomach and hips. Of course, this might take a while, since you’d have to be a real creepy - oh, never mind. There was a stir. Rick had to bite the insides of his cheeks not to comment. Birds of a feather…

Well, there was nothing for it. He crawled closer, took the other Rick’s cock in his hand and started teasing the blood towards the tip with a firm grip. That left enough room for him to bend low and start kissing his balls - fuck, it wasn’t just a look for this guy, he really was filthy. But what was he, chicken? No, he’d suck one after the other into his mouth, get them nice and soaking and wash them himself if he had to, and when he did, there was nothing awkward about it - in fact, he made sure to moan. And when Evil Rick snapped his fingers by his ear and pointed to himself to make sure Rick met his eyes, he moaned again and this time it was genuine.

Rick worked his tongue against the other Rick’s balls, traced it over the seam and let his saliva trickle down his chin rather than swallow it. Evil Rick wanted a filthy dog, he’d get one.

Han Rick groaned and made a grimace of disbelief. _“Fuck, you’ve got him trained good,”_ he murmured, quietly to make sure he wasn’t taking any more liberties either. He wasn’t really sure how much his assistance in subjugating this asshole was welcome, but he could at the very least dig his fingers into those nasty-looking cuts and let his lazy moans do the talking for him.

Rick made the low noises of pain he knew were expected of him and now he’d got the guy hard enough to start stroking him properly, teasing the foreskin across the leaking head with the ease of a life time of practice. He pulled his hot mouth away and trailed wet, sloppy kisses up the length of the Rick’s dick, made sure to catch the pre-cum with his tongue. And all the while, he stared dully up at his lover.

\-----------------------

Evil Rick watched entranced as C-137 pleasured Han Rick in exactly the way he had been instructed; slobbering, slurping and servicing the other without restraint. Still, it wasn’t an entirely comfortable scene for him view; to witness that dirty cock slip so eagerly between Rick’s accepting lips, into his warm mouth; a mouth  _he_  considered exclusively  _his_  own. When he heard Rick begin to moan, heavy with arousal and need, for a moment he wondered if this forced liaison had been a mistake, but chose to suppress the urge to intervene; much to his surprise, he was finding this experience to be entirely bitter-sweet.

Every time C-137’s attention would lazily drift to the other Rick, he had to issue a sharp reminder of where his focus should be firmly fixed; on him, always on him, never on the other. When C-137 did return his stare, it was with a concentrated intensity that made his stomach lurch; the desperation in those eyes, the desperation to please, not the other, but him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before from Rick and he adored him for it. Unfortunately, the more this strange adoration increased, the more he wanted to rip Han Rick’s cock off at the base and fucking choke him with it.

He balled Han Rick’s hair in his fist and jerked his head to the side.  _“Hurry up you-you little prick.”_ He snarled, flecking Han Rick’s cheek with spittle. He wanted Rick’s mouth locked against his own and was growing impatient.

Slowly, he crouched down beside C-137 and danced his fingers up and down his back, softening his tone.

 _“Keep going.”_  He encouraged.  _“You’re impressing me, I see you Rick, I can see what this means to you.”_

\--------------------

As soon as he felt that strong hand on his back, Rick purred deep in his throat and gave Evil Rick a dark, heavy-lidded look of absolute lust and devotion. His reservations were all completely gone - right now, being here, on his knees, dribbling and sucking and letting his mouth and throat make the filthiest, wettest noises, feeling a stranger’s dirty balls slap against his sticky chin felt not just good, but completely right, natural, just. He was good at this, he knew he was - why not just accept it?

At least someone was happy with him.

And he was giving it everything he had, one hand cupping and squeezing the other Rick’s nuts, the other stroking his cock in time with his bobbing head and each time the thick head pressed past the ring closing off his throat, he gave a grateful, pathetic, desperate moan even as he gagged and sniffled for air. Even if he’d tried to stop himself betraying just how good this felt, how it made his own neglected dick jump in time with the one between his split lips, he would never have been able to.

And he didn’t want to, either. There was something in those eyes that met his he could tell that Evil Rick wanted to hide, but couldn’t. Rick was doing exactly what he’d been told, and he could tell he might as well have twisted a knife into Evil Rick’s stomach. Without breaking eye contact, Rick reached up to grab Han Rick’s hands, guided them to the back of his head and coaxed him into fucking his throat just as hard as he wanted.

Han Rick’s head was still pounding from the elbow he’d taken to it, and he’d stopped caring about what this might or might not mean. This might well have been the sluttiest mouth he’d ever been invited to fuck, and he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to get back at the bastard, either. With a snort and an eye roll, he took the hint and began thrusting his hips, roughly shoving Rick’s bleeding head down to meet each of his pushes and completely ignoring the spluttering, groaning and gagging that was the result.

\-----------------------------------

There was a wordless moment that passed between them, he felt it; a resentful twitch at the corner of his own mouth, subtle but perceptible and when their eyes met and Rick reacted by beckoning the other Rick to degrade him further, Evil Rick knew he had revealed too much. This, watching C-137 with another Rick was becoming torturous, not just because his lover’s mouth was being sullied by another, but because it was being done at his request, he had made this happen, forced it to. In punishing Rick he had somehow unwittingly managed to punish himself and he wasn’t coping well with this stark realisation.

As Han Rick became more forceful, careless and callous, he felt his stomach churn as he fought to maintain his composure. The noises Rick was making were increasing in their desperation, he was struggling and choking, the prick wasn’t giving him enough air. His natural instinct was entirely protective and forced him, against his better judgement, to finally intervene.

He placed a heavy hand on Han Rick’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, so Rick could not hear his jealous warning.

 _“Finish yourself over his face.”_ He sneered, but the other continued to thrust into C-137′s gaping mouth with reckless abandon, lost in pursuit of his own pleasure seemingly ignoring the clear instruction.   

He clenched his hand hard around the scruff of Han Rick’s neck and painfully gripped it, continuing to whisper,  _“If you don’t remove your dick from him right now I will slit your throat and fuck your writhing corpse as you bleed out, capiche?”_

\----------------------------------------

 _Fuck_ , Rick knew that look. He didn’t have to hear what Evil Rick was saying to get the point, and if he hadn’t been so shamelessly turned on, hadn’t given in so completely to the base need for reassurance, for someone else’s ownership, he would have smiled at the victory. Now, he was just grateful, grateful that Evil Rick wanted to keep him and keep him for himself.

Han Rick swallowed, decided that he didn’t even need to understand what was happening, and pulled out his spit-slick cock from C-137’s hungry, desperately moaning mouth. He gripped it in his hand and started stroking it, hard and fast, caring nothing for trying to make it look erotic. When C-137 played dumb and tried to reach for it, he smacked his hand away, grabbed the blood-soaked tufts of hair and held him in place while he jerked off with the purple, already leaking head an inch from his nose. Han Rick groaned in disbelief when he looked down and met his eyes - he’d never seen anyone look so completely degraded and submissive, so eager to please; Rick had his tongue stretched out, his heavy lidded eyes black with lust and never looking away from him, a stupid, grateful smile on his face as if tasting his dick had literally gotten him drunk.

 _Fuck_. His cock finally jumped in his grip and he blew his load right in the other Rick’s face, growled and just let it happen.

Rick didn’t even wince or shut his eyes, he just moaned long and low in pathetic gratitude, squirmed to get the slightest bit of friction against his dick and tilted his head back to catch as much of the rank seed on his tongue and in his mouth as he could get. It dripped from his lashes, it stung his eyes, it landed hot and sticky on his lips and as soon as it slowed down and just came in a few last pathetic spurts, he started licking it from around his mouth and swallowing it. Han Rick let his hair go, stepped out and put his hands up in a gesture that said he washed them of this whole situation.

Rick turned to his lover, coughed on the cum that was congealing in his throat and moaned _“D-did I do good, Rick?”_

\-------------------------------------------

As soon as Han Rick withdrew his thick spit slick cock out of Rick’s red raw aching mouth, Evil Rick felt his stomach begin to settle. He watched with a perverse smile as Han Rick finished administering C-137’s lesson, all over Rick’s face in thick yellowed strands,  _Jesus, when was the last time this guy had come_? It clung to Rick’s swollen lips and slippery chin in viscid gluey threads, which Rick in his desperation to please, slurped, sucked down and swallowed. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t supposed to be, frankly it was disgusting, the sight did nothing for him.

It was only when C-137 looked up at him with those huge puppy dog eyes, needful for some praise, desperate for his devotion to be acknowledged that Evil Rick finally felt himself teasingly begin to stir.

_“You did, you did good.”_

Evil Rick swiftly turned his attention to Han Rick who was already beginning to eye the rest room door, presumably to make a quick escape. Perhaps he thought he was going to kill him, perhaps he would kill him, if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t quite decided.  He snapped his fingers. This time, Han Rick, with renewed clarity of mind, froze into position.  _“You’ll finish what you fucking started.”_  Evil Rick snarled pointing at the floor beside C-137.

Han Rick sharply sucked in some air as he considered an appropriate response; then seemingly decided it was probably better to remain silent and fell down to his knees, shuffling forward to echo Rick’s submissive cower.

 _“Stay there.”_  He growled as he reached down for  _his_  Rick. Careful to avoid the sticky mess now spread over C-137’s face and still dripping onto the floor, he balled Rick’s hair in his fist and wrenched him upwards, dragging him over to one of the sinks. Turning on the hot water he picked up a small sliver of pink soap.

 _“Open.”_ He stated flatly, placing the soap on Rick’s tongue.

 _“Wash your fucking mouth out, you’re revolting.”_  He hissed in his ear, giving his rear a possessive pat. He laughed softly to himself as Rick began to vigorously clean his face, choking on the perfumed soap, which he spat out only when he was convinced he had done a good enough job. The act of course was not at all for Rick’s benefit, he needed him clean, would only touch him if he was clean. Evil Rick examined his face.

_“Good enough.”_

He pulled Rick over to lean against him as he towered over Han Rick and pointed at his crotch.  _“Well, what are you f-fucking waiting for?”_  He asked as he wrapped a thin hand around Rick’s pale throat and angled his head down to whisper hotly against the back of his neck.

_“This, this is what you were so fucking up-upset about earlier, I-I want you to remember that as you watch this.”_

He shook Rick’s head as if trying to throttle some sense into it.

_“You need to realise how little this piece of shit means to me and that this, with other R-Rick’s, this will happen again, whether you-you like it or not.”_

\-------------------------------

After all the blood he’d lost, how hard he’d worked, the pain he had endured, Rick had to lean on his lover to remain standing. But the sad, needy gesture was probably just what Evil Rick wanted to feel reassured of his strength and his dominance.

On the dirty, soaked floor, Han Rick was readying himself, pulling down Evil Rick’s pants and picking up where he’d left off. Rick forced himself to watch even though it was torture, even more so now than the first time, because this time it dragged on without him being able to stop it, and worse still it was his fault. He knew he was better, could do better than that piece of shit - what did Evil Rick get out of this, other than the chance to put him in his place? There was nothing for it; he’d just have to be better next time.

Evil Rick seemed to be too incensed with Han Rick to have any patience with him, and as soon as he had his dick in his mouth, Evil Rick grabbed hold of his hair and stared fucking his mouth _,_ rough and careless. His other hand petted Rick’s face, grabbed his neck, twisted him into a kiss. It was possessive, greedy, clumsy - teeth clicking together, then coming down to bite Rick’s lip and tear it open.

Rick met it, swallowed back the blood that trickled onto his tongue, felt a stirring of warmth in his stomach from this crumb of affection. And when Evil Rick pulled away to groan and berate Han for not doing better, he leaned his head on his shoulder and scoffed at the pathetic attempts of his rival. Jesus, that thick cock was only halfway in his mouth and already he was coughing and gagging. Didn’t he realise how fucking lucky he was?

\-------------------------------

Evil Rick allowed C-137 to rest heavily against him, there was nothing he liked more than when Rick was too weak to stand and needed him for balance.

He wrapped both his hands around Han Rick’s head, clasping them over his ears as he quickened his pace and allowed his greedy movements to become noticeably move violent. Han Rick was choking now, his cheeks flustered and his teeth slowly starting to close in resistance forcing his abuser to impale him with even stronger resolve. It was becoming painful now, Han Rick was beginning to panic and gag for breath and in his state of distress was raking the sharp edges of his teeth across Evil Rick’s length, lacerating the tender flesh. He cared not, in fact in many ways, given Han Rick’s previous slack-sloppy technique, it was a vast improvement. With each brutal thrust he watched C-137 out of the corner of his eye, observing his reactions, ensuring he didn’t try to disassociate from this learning experience.

Evil Rick withdrew from Han Rick’s dripping mouth with a sucking _‘pop’_ and immediately placed a hand on C-137’s shoulder to softly guide him down to rest on his knees back on the floor with the other. His erection was a purple hue, hard, sore and now lightly scarred. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base and began stroking it up and down rhythmically, his hand clenched tightly around his twitching shaft with a clear aim over both of their faces, alternating between Han Rick’s tear filled scrunched eyes and Rick’s wide expectant mouth.

He closed his eyes momentarily as felt his orgasm nearing, pausing to savour the lingering taste of Rick’s bloody lip still ever-present on his palate. He opened them again with a gruff gasp as his thick, sticky semen erupted out of his empurpled head, first hitting Han Rick directly in the eye and then the rest, in short sharp liquid bursts carefully pledged to Rick,  _his_  Rick.  Removing his hand from his cock, he wiped his palm on the right side of Hans Rick’s stubbly face, leaving a shining trail of spit and come then gave them both a condescending pat on the head, entirely for his own amusement.

\---------------------------------

Rick shuddered but didn’t complain. It was humiliating, it tasted disgusting but he moaned in gratitude when it landed hot and sticky on his face and swallowed what he could. If it hadn’t been for the complaining prick next to him, ruining this moment with his judgemental looks and terrible, unenthusiastic technique, he might have come there and then without one single stroke. God, if Evil Rick had just called him first, he could have given it to him so much better…

But of course, that wasn’t even true. Better, maybe, but that willing, that ready to just get under the table and service him? No. Would Evil Rick even have wanted to? How much fight did he want him to show? Rick had been wrong about so many things tonight, and he was so drunk, exhausted, low and in so much pain that there was no point in him trying to figure it out. Besides, he added silently with a shiver, all he had to do now to learn how to behave was wait and listen.

If he hadn’t been so painfully hard, and so desperate to stay on Evil Rick’s, for lack of a better word, ‘good’ side, he would have knocked that asshole the fuck out all over again for getting in the way again with his piss poor attitude. Why wasn’t he excusing himself and leaving them alone?

Finally the tense atmosphere seemed to get to that jerk, and he wiped his face on his sleeve with pointed care, to silently show just how much he resented being brought into this mess. He got to his feet on shaking knees and gave Evil Rick a sullen look. _“Can I be excused?”_

\-----------------------------

Evil Rick ignored Han Solo Rick’s question, but instantly shifted himself to block the only exit. He curled a hand tenderly around C-137’s sweat-stained head and looked down at his semi-coagulated shoulder wound.  _“I want to stitch that when we get back to my lab.”_  He mused, poking a pointed finger into the raw bloodied puncture and smiling as Rick involuntarily squirmed.  _“You’ll need a bath too.”_ He really needed to purge the stink of the other from Rick as soon as possible.

He placed a firm hand flatly on Rick’s back and softly guided him towards the door.  _“Wait for me in the bar, I-I won’t be a moment.”_

As soon as Rick had left he turned back towards Han Rick flashing him his most insincerely sincere smile and began to walk slowly forwards.  _“I-I have to thank you for your assistance in teaching my friend a sorely deserved lesson to-tonight.”_

Han Rick found himself backing towards the wall, there was something in those eyes that made his skin crawl and the strange smile only seemed to make it worse. 

 _“Umm..yeah, no-no problem, I…l-look I won’t…I won’t tell anyone you know…uh.”_ He stopped short as his back collided with the wall and the space between them grew worryingly smaller. 

Evil Rick stopped his approach leaving only an inch between them and placed a heavy hand on Han Rick’s shoulder. He paused studying this Rick, knowing this guy was the only other Rick C-137 had ever experienced the taste of.

 _“You won’t be telling anyone anything ever again.”_  He sneered, flipping his screwdriver out of his pocket and driving it into the belly of the other, bluntly dragging it across his abdomen, the skin around it instantly being made ragged, puckered and lipped by his touch, drenching his hands in a cascade of warm, thick blood.

He watched as Han Rick’s mouth opened in amazement or agony and he immediately buckled scrambling to push his bloody steaming guts back in, which clearly, much to his obvious horror were now splattering onto the floor. Evil Rick placed a hand over Han Rick’s mouth to silence his screams and shifted his stance to avoid getting any of his putrid contents on his shoes; he couldn’t risk Rick even beginning to suspect the jealous act that was being perpetrated in his absence. No, this one had to be quick, quick and quiet. He didn’t need an excuse, only a reason and his terrible joy at the act was reason enough.

He wrapped his thin hands around Han Rick’s throat in a constricting grasp and with all the strength he had left began to squeeze. The blood had already drained from Han Rick’s face and it was quite obviously he was going into shock, still clutching desperately onto his stomach, as if there was anything in there actually worth saving.

Evil Rick watched with perverse interest as the tiny veins in Han Rick’s eyes began to expand and burst like tiny fireworks, causing the whiteness of his eyes to transform from baby pink into a delicious red. He was gurgling now, unable to do anything else, blood spluttering and foaming from his mouth and bubbling down his chin coating Evil Rick’s knuckles, his legs beginning to stiffen and kick out; it wouldn’t be long now. He felt the thrill of sagging weight as Han Rick began to fall against him, his eyes glazing over, his handsome face lost in an empty endless dream. With one final faint spasm he was finally gone, his departure significantly more interesting than his arrival. Evil Rick’s heart was pounding and his breathing had degenerated to a rough ragged rasp, he released Han Rick from his grip and took a large step back allowing his pathetic lifeless body to slump heavily to the floor; there would be no further intimacy for this one.

Thrusting a hefty pile of money into Han Rick’s pocket, ready for the bar staff to clean up, he walked over to the sink to steady himself and painstakingly wash the creep’s blood from his stained hands. He looked in the mirror and took several deep cleansing breaths in an attempt to calm his wild expression. Ready.

Smoothing his hands through his hair and lighting a cigarette, he casually walked back out into the bar to find Rick.

\----------------------------------------

Rick was sitting in one of the booths when Evil Rick came out, but was too tired even to raise his arm and wave to him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of him with a bottle for company, a cigarette consisting mostly of ash dangled between his split, bloody lips and a lot of eyes rested on his battered form, either concerned he’d bleed all over the rest of the bar’s interior or sizing him up for easy pickings when he left or passed out. He didn’t blame them - he was covered from top to toe in toilet water, rose scented soap suds, blood, sweat, tears and congealed come. A man only a creepy motherfucker could love.

Evil Rick was shaking too when he stalked up to him, but from adrenaline rather than exhaustion. He’d been in there a good while, and there was a streak of red from where he’d pushed back his hair. In fact, there was patterns of blood in quite a few places Rick didn’t remember… he raised his eyebrows and watched him approach.

It felt like his throat was thick with words he wanted out of him like vomit. _Please bring me home_  fought their way to the top. But he’d said enough for one evening, wouldn’t open his mouth again to speak unless he was spoken to, and he wasn’t sure if that meant obedience, sullenness and hurt or just pure shivering tiredness. One thing was for sure, if he couldn’t get clean, warm and enveloped in blankets soon, he’d faint or start crying.

\-------------------------------

Rick cut a pitiful figure and for the first time that evening Evil Rick felt a tiny pang of guilt. He lifted Rick’s whiskey and drained the glass with one hand as he pulled Rick to stand with the other. Setting down the glass he slipped off his lab coat and wrapped it warmly around Rick’s shivering shoulders, simultaneously shooting the other patrons a look which quickly caused the circling vultures to scarper.  

 _“This was necessary.”_ He affirmed both to himself and to Rick, his words merely a horse croak. He moved behind Rick and lowered his head over his shoulder to rest his scarred lips against Rick’s neck, taking comfort from his skin as he smoothed a calloused thumb over Rick’s torn, bruised lip, releasing a deep contented sigh. This one, C-137, this one was his and he’d kill anything that even looked at Rick the wrong way, but this adoration,  _his_ adoration came at a steep price, that Rick continually seemed to be willing to pay.

 _“B-back to mine, we need to fix you up before you lose any more blood.”_ He whispered softly, tracing his finger across Rick’s sticky jawline and handing him _his_  portal gun. 

\--------------------------------

The swirling green enveloped them both, and they left their blood and their tab behind, arm in arm, Rick leaning helplessly on his captor. Evil Rick guided him through the corridors of his lair, towards the collection of rooms Rick thought of as the living areas - as in, the rooms where some of the torture devices came from a slightly different mail order company. The moments blended together into an incoherent mess, and Rick came back to earth to find himself sitting alone next to a bathtub quickly filling with hot, soapy water. He realised he’d been staring at the same yellow rubber ducky for the last three minutes at least, so he reached over and gave it an experimental squeeze. Huh. You think you know a guy.

Evil Rick came back in, gave Rick the look of mixed emotions you give a beloved family pet you’ve just caught rolling around in a pile of dead duck and snapped his rubber gloves into place. Under his arm was a first aid kit, which he opened up on the sink. The tub was starting to overflow. Evil Rick groaned in impatience and Rick realised he was still fully clothed. Well, this was going to be one of the least erotic strip teases he’d ever performed, that much was certain.

\-------------------------------

Evil Rick rolled his eyes and turned off the taps. 

_“J-jesus put that fucking duck down Rick and take off your clothes, this-this is weird enough, I’m not doing it for you.”_

He watched as Rick struggled with one lame arm and eventually after a good minute he was forced to breathe a heavy labored sigh and reluctantly begin to help Rick undress. Once naked, Rick just sat next to the bath still staring vacantly at the rubber duck. 

 _“It was a present”_ Evil Rick blurted, looping his hands under Rick’s armpits and hoisting him up. He walked Rick’s thin frame over to the bath where he unceremoniously dumped him straight in, not even bothering to test the temperature of the water. Rick wasn’t screaming anyway and for him, that was indication enough that everything was fine.  

He could see it more clearly now; the puncture wound where he had drove his screwdriver into the soft welcoming flesh of Rick’s shoulder. Reaching behind him he pulled out an antiseptic spray and soaked the wound, still deciding whether to allow Rick the luxury of a painkiller before he started to stitch him up.

\--------------------------

Rick was deep under by the time he felt the needle pierce his skin. The pain was dull - there must have been a shot or a cream… shit, this really was true love. He opened his bleary eyes and tried to twist to get a good look at Evil Rick. This was met with a light smack over the back of his head and a mutter of “keep still, you idiot.”

 _“So,”_ Rick slurred and swept the duck into the water to watch it bob on the little waves in the tub. _“Am-am I outta the dog house?”_

This really was nothing else he’d experienced. He’d subbed before, and he’d been tortured before, but this went beyond either. And Evil Rick had been right - he couldn’t leave. 

Oh, he was still capable of purer feeling. It wasn’t that something as horrible as this was all he could enjoy. But as long as this bastard was out there somewhere, he’d throw himself in his path. It was as irresistible as picking at a scab, as tempting as stepping over a cliff edge.   
  
Nothing would be the same after this, though. Not after what he’d said, what he’d done. And he was really, truly scared that Evil Rick would be done with him now that any fight he put up was acknowledged by them both as nothing more than posturing. If this was it, it could mean death. It could mean deadening boredom. 

He felt numb to it, almost ready to sulk again or cope the best way he knew how - drinking, alone. But he asked before he even decided to, and in a quiet, beaten down voice: _“What’s gonna happen now?”_

_\-------------------------------------------_

 Evil Rick pulled the last thread through Rick’s puckered skin, snipped it off and began to replace his tools back into the first aid box. He removed his surgical gloves and plunged a hand under the warm water, smoothing it up Rick’s slippery wet thigh. 

Dog house? Jesus was that what Rick thought he wanted some placid mindless animal that would drool over him and immediately succumb to his every whim. That was not what he wanted for Rick, it was not what he wanted for either of them. Rick’s question was definitely one he had been asking himself. 

He ghosted his hand up Rick’s stomach onto his chest and lay it over his heart. 

 _“You’re such a moron.”_ He whispered with a smirk. He trailed soft kisses around Rick’s shoulder wound, then raised his gaze to lock eyes with other, hoping they would tell him all he needed to know. 

 _“Nothing has changed.”_ He smiled as he internally debated whether to say the thought now resting tempestuously on the tip of his tongue. He lowered his gaze and took a deep breath.

_“If anything you mean more to me now than you ever did before.”_

END


End file.
